Loved
by rabbit-eared-warbler
Summary: Trigger warning: eating disorder


**Loved**

**A/N: I just realized I literally always forget to write a disclaimer! I doubt the FBI will show up at my door because I'm writing **_**Glee **_**Fanfiction without letting everyone know I don't own the show, but just to be safe, I'll fix that.**

**The song is a lot darker than I'd realized, and, because of that, the fic is a lot darker than I thought it'd be. I don't know how I handled this material; please let me know.**

**Oh yeah, this is based off the song "Courage" by Superchic(K).**

**Trigger Warnings: Eating disorder, self-hate, bullying**

**Also, Blaine is a Christian in this fic, just so you know.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the show, do you think I'd be writing fic about it instead of working on plotlines and the script and stuff?**

Blaine knocked on the Hummel's door, shifting and adjusting his shirt. The burning in his stomach was a constant ache, but watching the numbers go down on the scale made it worth it.

Burt opened the door, taking in his appearance. "Come on in, Blaine! We were starting to think you weren't going to make it."

Blaine smiled brightly, stepping in. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

When he walked into the living room where the rest of the family was, Carole stood up to hug him. "You look nice, dear!" she said, and Finn nodded in agreement.

Blaine nervously accepted the hug. He smiled when they parted, glad to get the compliment. Someone was appreciating his hard work. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Kurt patted the open spot next to him on the couch, and Blaine sat next to him. Soon the five of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, Blaine eventually resting his head on Kurt's shoulder as the brunet flipped through his magazine.

Soon the timer went off somewhere in the kitchen, and Blaine knew this was the part he dreaded. He always came to Friday Night Dinner because it was a routine now, and he knew they'd worry if he didn't show.

"I'm not very hungry today," Blaine announced as they all sat at the table, before he could be questioned later. _Liar. Don't lie, Blaine; it's a sin to lie._ Finn, ever the bottomless pit, gave him an incredulous look, but the rest of the family didn't pay much mind to him for the rest of the meal.

When Blaine was back at his house, the shutting of the front door echoed through the empty house. There was no sound but his breathing, and it was rather eerie, but the ex-Warbler was used to it.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the door, overwhelmed with his thoughts and emotions. He wished he didn't have to suffer like this; he knew what he was doing, that he should know better and just _eat_. He knew God didn't want this for him.

Was God really there? Blaine prayed so hard, every day and night, for his life to get better, to stop feeling so hopeless. He just wanted some _help_. Some days, he even prayed for someone—anyone but Kurt—to notice.

He didn't even notice the tears streaming down his face until he was inside his room, collapsing on his bed. He took in shaky breaths, eyes closed and holding his pillow tight. Were things ever going to get better? Would he ever stop feeling so worthless?

The boy remembered everything people had been telling him as long as he could remember. They called him worthless, fat, disgusting, and unloved—and after a while, he started to believe the words. They constantly echoed through his head.

As he lay, curled up in his bed, wearing his day clothes and tears streaming down his face as his stomach grumbled for some much-needed nutrients, he only had one thought: _God, please save me._

Not eating didn't make Blaine feel any less ugly—but it did make him feel a little more in control, it made him almost _happy_, having a goal to look forward to reaching every day.

Blaine studied himself in the mirror in his room, adjusting his bowtie and plastering on a picture-perfect smile. He then sighed, sitting on his bed, head in his hands. What was he going to do?

He drove to school after weighing himself, anxious about the whole day. Would someone notice? Would Kurt realize something was terribly wrong with him? The image Kurt had of him couldn't be further shattered; he had to be as close to perfect as humanly possible.

When he got to his first class, Tina made to hug him, but he narrowly avoided that by quickly sitting down, heart pounding wildly. "Sorry," Blaine said with a shrug.

When Blaine saw Kurt sit next to him at lunch, he swore Kurt knew something was up. A strange emotion flickered across his face when Blaine told him he just hadn't been hungry lately. He _hated_ lying to Kurt. Kurt just put his hand on top of Blaine's on the table, looked him in the eyes and said "Okay."

That day, Blaine was okay.

The next morning Blaine walked into school, seeing Kurt by his locker. His smile became a little more real. "Hey."

Kurt just handed him a red rose from behind his back and whispered "Courage."

At lunch, it was a white rose, and he said, "Please don't keep secrets from me, Blaine. You can tell me anything."

Now he was sure Kurt knew, but he couldn't being himself to say the words out loud.

He was still worthless, fat, and disgusting, but with Kurt, at least now he knew he wasn't unloved.

_ "Please eat something."_

_ "I want to help you."_

_ "God wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."_

"I want you to be healthy," Kurt said this time, again with those worried eyes.

Blaine exploded. They were at Kurt's house, and his family was out; Kurt had cooked a delicious lunch for them this Saturday, and he was trying to get Blaine to eat.

"You don't understand. I have a goal, Kurt!" He was shouting. He knew he shouldn't be yelling, but he was getting nervous. He'd wanted someone to notice, and now that they had, he didn't know how to accept help. Tears gathered in his eyes, so Blaine turned away.

(Plus the person who noticed just had to be perfect, beautiful Kurt.)

"I can't just sit back and watch you kill yourself!" Kurt shouted back.

At the words, Blaine stopped and inhaled sharply. He sat back down at the table finally, putting his head in his hands. He should've realized this fully before, but somehow he didn't. Kurt's words were a rude awakening—he was going to _die_ if he kept this up.

He didn't know if he could do it, though—he'd gotten so used to the routine he didn't know if he could quit. Kurt hesitantly put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine sighed, the tears threatening to fall. "I'm not okay," he whispered.

Kurt bit his lip, looking at Blaine. "If no one else, at least God and I love you the way you are; we want you to be healthy."

Blaine appreciated Kurt's effort to comfort him with God, because he knew Kurt's relationship with religion was very strained. He finally dissolved into sobs. "Thank you."

Later that day, Blaine saw Kurt pray for the first time.

_Please help me to keep from falling to old habits._

_ Please help me remember You love me._

_ Please help Kurt find his way to You._

This was the mantra Blaine repeated at the beginning of every prayer; these were the things most important to him. He didn't have to be perfect; he just had to keep trying. He just had to be himself.

It's been three months since Blaine's last skipped a meal, three months since Kurt helped him _tell_ _someone_ and get help. It's been three months of Kurt's ever-lasting support, a bouquet of roses at the end of each month, each time with a little encouraging note.

Kurt stayed with him through the good days and the _awful_, depressing days when he just wanted to die and didn't want to talk to anyone. Kurt and God always came through to him.

It's been over a year of pain and recovery, and he still has those days, but he can finally say he is not fat, disgusting, or worthless. He was very, very loved.


End file.
